Reading the Goblet of Fire
by GryffindorCaptain06
Summary: Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter Everything in bold is JK Rowling's work
1. Chapter 1

It was the day before the first task, about half way through breakfast, and Harry had already thought about the knife awaiting him back in his bed, under his pillow. He fingered the cuts on the insides of his wrists and sighed.

Suddenly there was a huge crash and a girl with blood red hair and emerald green eyes appeared.

"Hello everyone!" She greeted. "My name is LGR, call me L." She smiled. "You're here to read a book called Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. It's about this whole year _including the future_ from Harry's point of view. I swear on my magic everything that is in the book is the truth. There is one thing that I will reveal to you at the end of the book about Harry. But other than that, everything is in there. I promise." She looked around. "Let's start! Cedric you'll read first." L said, addressing the Hufflepuff Champion. "Wait first!" L snapped her fingers and Remus, Sirius(as Snuffles), Mr and Mrs Weasley, Bill, Charlie, and Amelia Bones appeared. "Okay, so, it starts on chapter 2. Don't question me!"

Cedric took a deep breath and began...

 **Harry lay flat on his back, breathing hard as though he had been running. He had awoken from a vivid dream with his hands pressed over his face. The old scar on his forehead, which was shaped like a bolt of lightning, was burning beneath his fingers as though someone had just pressed a white-hot wire to his skin.**

"Your scar hurt again?" Remus asked.

"Yeah" Harry said. Cedric started reading before anyone could say anything else.

 **He sat up, one hand still on his scar, the other hand reaching out in the darkness for his glasses, which were on the bedside table. He put them on and his bedroom came into clearer focus, lit by a faint, misty orange light that was filtering through the curtains from the street lamp outside the window.**

 **Harry ran his fingers over the scar again. It was still painful. He turned on the lamp beside him, scrambled** **out of bed, crossed the room, opened his wardrobe, and peered into the mirror on the inside of the door. A skinny boy of fourteen looked back at him, his bright green eyes puzzled under his untidy black hair. He examined the lightning-bolt scar of his reflection more closely. It looked normal, but it was still stinging.**

 **Harry tried to recall what he had been dreaming about before he had awoken. It had seemed so real. . . There had been two people he knew and one he didn't. . . He concentrated hard, frowning, trying to remember. . .**

 **The dim picture of a darkened room came to him. . . There had been a snake on a hearth rug. . . a small man called Peter, nicknamed Wormtail. . .**

"Wormtail!"

"As in,"

Moony"

" Wormtail,"

" Padfoot,"

"and Prongs?!" Fred and George switched off.

"I take it they're the ones who gave you the map?" Remus asked, and Harry nodded.

 **and a cold, high voice. . . the voice of Lord Voldemort.**

Cue flinches

 **Harry felt as though an ice cube had slipped down into his stomach at the very thought. . .**

Everyone but Ron and Hermione and Ginny looked surprised at that.

 **He closed his eyes tightly and tried to remember what Voldemort had looked like, but it was impossible. . . All Harry knew was that at the moment when Voldemort's chair** **had swung around, and he, Harry, had seen what was sitting in it, he had felt a spasm of horror, which had awoken him. . . or had that been the pain in his scar?**

"Maybee both?" Fleur suggested.

 **And who had the old man been? For there had definitely been an old man; Harry had watched him fall to the ground. It was all becoming confused. Harry put his face into his hands, blocking out his bedroom, trying to hold on to the picture of that dimly lit room, but it was like trying to keep water in his cupped hands;**

"I tried to do that once," L said, "It didn't work."

 **the details were now trickling away**

 **as fast as he tried to hold on to them. . . Voldemort and Wormtail had been talking about someone they had killed, though Harry could not remember the name. . .**

Lavender gasped. "Someone's dead!"

 **and they had been plotting to kill someone else. . . him!**

"Oh that's a cheerful thought to wake up to." Bill and Seamus stated sarcastically (and in unison). They looked at eachother, surprised.

 **Harry took his face out of his hands, opened his eyes, and stared around his bedroom as though expecting to see something unusual there. As it happened, there was an extraordinary number of unusual things in this room. A large wooden trunk stood open at the foot of his bed, revealing a cauldron, broomstick, black robes, and assorted spellbooks. Rolls of parchment littered that part of his desk that was not taken up by the large, empty cage in which his snowy owl, Hedwig, usually perched. On the floor beside his bed a book lay open; Harry had been reading it before he fell asleep last night. The pictures in this book were all moving. Men in bright orange robes were zooming in and out of sight on broomsticks, throwing a red ball to one another.**

"That's not unusual!" Parvati exclaimed.

"It is to a Muggle." Hermione and Remus stated in unison, and Snuffles barked a laugh.

 **Harry walked over to the book, picked it up, and watched one of the wizards score a spectacular goal by putting the ball through a fifty-foot-high hoop. Then he snapped the book shut. Even Quidditch - in Harry's opinion, the best sport in the world -**

"It _is_ the best sport in the vorld." Krum said.

 **couldn't distract him at the moment. He placed Flying with the Cannons on his bedside table, crossed to the window, and drew back the curtains to survey the** **street below.**

 **Privet Drive looked exactly as a respectable suburban street would be expected to look in the early hours of Saturday morning. All the curtains were closed. As far as Harry could see through the darkness, there wasn't a living creature in sight, not even a cat.**

All the Hogwarts students turned to look at McGonagall

 **And yet. . . and yet. . . Harry went restlessly back to the bed and sat down on it, running a finger over his scar again. It wasn't the pain that bothered him; Harry was no stranger to pain and injury. He had lost all the bones from his right arm once and had them painfully regrown in a night.**

Ron's cough sounded suspiciously like 'Lockhart'.

 **The same arm had been pierced by a venomous foot-long fang not long afterward.**

Ginny shuddered.

 **Only last year Harry had fallen fifty feet from an airborne broomstick.**

"Dementors." Remus stated calmly, and everyone shuddered.

 **He was used to bizarre accidents and injuries; they were unavoidable if you attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and had a knack for attracting a lot of trouble.**

Ron and Hermione snorted.

 **No, the thing that was bothering Harry was the last time his scar had hurt him, it had been because Voldemort**

Flinch

 **had been close by. . . But Voldemort**

Flinch

 **couldn't be here, now. . . The idea of Voldemort**

Flinch

 **lurking in Privet Drive was absurd, impossible. . .**

 **Harry listened closely to the silence around him. Was he half expecting to hear the creak of a stair or the swish of a cloak? And then he jumped slightly as he heard his cousin Dudley give a tremendous grunting snore from the next room.**

 **Harry shook himself mentally; he was being stupid.**

A young Hufflepuff boy snickered.

"What else is new?" Malfoy muttered.(

 **There was no one in the house with him except Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley, and they were plainly still asleep, their dreams untroubled and** **painless.**

 **Asleep was the way Harry liked the Dursleys best; it wasn't as though they were ever any help to him awake. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley were Harry's only living relatives. They were Muggles who hated and despised magic in any form, which meant that Harry was about as welcome in their house as dry rot.**

Everyone, and I mean everyone, gaped at the book for a moment.

 **They had explained away Harry's long absences at Hogwarts over the last three years by telling everyone that he went to St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. They knew perfectly well that, as an underage wizard, Harry wasn't allowed to use magic outside Hogwarts, but they were still apt to blame him for anything that went wrong about the house. Harry had never been able to confide in them or tell them anything about his life in the wizarding world. The very idea of going to them when they awoke, and telling them about his scar hurting him, and about his worries about Voldemort**

Flinch

 **, was laughable.**

 **And yet it was because of Voldemort**

Flinch

 **that Harry had come to live with the Dursleys in the first place. If it hadn't been for Voldemort,**

Flinch

 **Harry would not have had the lightning scar on his forehead. If it hadn't been for Voldemort**

Flinch

 **, Harry would still have had parents. . . .**

Everyone in the room felt guilty for a moment.

 **Harry had been a year old the night that Voldemort**

Flinch

 **\- the most powerful Dark wizard for a century, a wizard who had been gaining power steadily for eleven years - arrived at his house and killed his father and mother. Voldemort**

Flinch

 **had then turned his wand on Harry; he had performed the curse that had disposed of many full-grown witches and wizards in his steady rise to power - and, incredibly, it had not worked. Instead of killing the small boy, the curse had rebounded upon Voldemort.**

Flinch.

 **Harry had survived with nothing but a lightning-shaped cut on his forehead, and Voldemort had been reduced to something barely alive. His powers gone, his life almost extinguished, Voldemort**

Flinch.

 **had fled; the terror in which the secret community of witches and wizards had lived for so long had lifted, Voldemort's**

Flinch

 **followers had disbanded, and Harry Potter had become famous.**

"Unfortunately" Harry muttered.

 **It had been enough of a shock for Harry to discover, on his eleventh birthday, that he was a wizard; it had been even more disconcerting to find out that everyone in the hidden wizarding world knew his name. Harry had arrived at Hogwarts to find that heads turned and whispers followed him wherever he went. But he was used to it now: At the end of this summer, he would be starting his fourth year at Hogwarts, and Harry was already counting the days until he would be back at the castle again.**

"I do that too." Hermione said.

 **But there was still a fortnight to go before he went back to school. He looked hopelessly around his room again, and his eye paused on the birthday cards his two best friends had sent him at the end of July. What would they say if Harry wrote to them and told them about his scar hurting?**

 **At once, Hermione Granger's voice seemed to fill his head, shrill and panicky.**

"Harry!" She exclaimed.

 **"Your scar hurt? Harry, that's really serious. . . Write to Professor Dumbledore! nd I'll go and check Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. . . Maybe there's something in there about curse scars. . . . "**

" I doubt it," Harry said.

 **Yes, that would be Hermione's advice: Go straight to the headmaster of Hogwarts, and in the meantime, consult a book. Harry stared out of the window at the inky blue-black sky. He doubted very much whether a book could help him now. As far as he knew, he was the only living person to have** **survived a curse like Voldemort's;**

Flinch.

 **it was highly unlikely, therefore, that he would find his symptoms listed in Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. As for informing the headmaster, Harry had no idea where Dumbledore went during the summer holidays. He amused himself for a moment, picturing Dumbledore, with his long silver beard, full length wizard's robes, and pointed hat, stretched out on a beach somewhere, rubbing suntan lotion onto his long crooked nose**

Everyone laughed.

 **. Wherever Dumbledore was, though, Harry was sure that Hedwig would be able to find him; Harry's owl had never yet failed to deliver a letter to anyone, even without an address. But what would he write?**

 **Dear Professor Dumbledore, Sorry to bother you, but my scar hurt this morning. Yours sincerely, Harry Potter.**

"That's exactly what you should have said!" Hermione said, and Harry groaned and motioned for Cedric to continue.

 **Even inside his head the words sounded stupid.**

 **And so he tried to imagine his other best friend, Ron Weasley's, reaction, and in a moment, Ron's red hair and long-nosed, freckled face seemed to swim before Harry, wearing a bemused expression.**

 **"Your scar hurt? But. . . but You-Know-Who can't be near you now, can he? I mean. . . you'd know, wouldn't you? He'd be trying to do you in again, wouldn't be? I dunno, Harry, maybe curse scars always twinge a bit. . . I'll ask Dad. . . "**

"I wouldn't know anything about this type of thing." Mr Weasley stated clearly.

 **Mr. Weasley was a fully qualified wizard who worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, but he didn't have any particular expertise in the matter of curses, as far as Harry knew. In any case, Harry didn't like the idea of the whole Weasley family knowing that he, Harry, was getting jumpy about a few moments' pain. Mrs. Weasley would fuss worse than Hermione, and Fred and George, Ron's sixteen year old twin brothers, might think Harry was losing his nerve. The Weasleys were Harry's favorite family in the world; he was hoping that they might invite him to stay any time now (Ron had mentioned something about the Quidditch World Cup), and he somehow didn't want his visit punctuated with anxious inquiries about his scar.**

"Don't blame you, mate." Dean said.

 **Harry kneaded his forehead with his knuckles. What he really wanted (and it felt almost shameful to admit it to himself) was someone like - someone like a parent: an adult wizard whose advice he could ask without feeling stupid, someone who cared about him**

"That's not stupid..." Ginny said softly, grabbing and squeezing his hand. They looked each other in the eyes for a moment and then in unison turned back to Cedric

 **, who had had experience with Dark Magic. . . .**

 **And then the solution came to him. It was so simple, and so obvious, that he couldn't believe it had taken so long - Sirius.**

 **Harry leapt up from the bed, hurried across the room, and sat down at his desk; he pulled a piece of parchment toward him, loaded his eagle-feather quill with ink, wrote Dear Sirius, then paused, wondering how best to phrase his problem, still marveling at the fact that he hadn't thought of Sirius straight away. But then, perhaps it wasn't so surprising - after all, he had only found out that Sirius was his godfather two months ago.**

 **There was a simple reason for Sirius's complete absence from Harry's life until then - Sirius had been in Azkaban, the terrifying wizard jail guarded by creatures called dementors, sightless, soul-sucking fiends who had come to search for Sirius at Hogwarts when he had escaped. Yet Sirius had been innocent - the murders for which he had been convicted had been committed by Wormtail, Voldemort's supporter, whom nearly everybody now believed dead. Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew otherwise, however; they had come face-to-face with Wormtail only the previous year, though only Professor Dumbledore had believed their story.**

"We will deal with this after the chapter." Madame Bones stated.

 **For one glorious hour, Harry had believed that he was leaving the Dursleys at last, because Sirius had offered him a home once his name had been cleared. But the chance had been snatched away from** **him - Wormtail had escaped before they could take him to the Ministry of Magic, and Sirius had had to flee for his life. Harry had helped him escape on the back of a hippogriff called Buckbeak, and since then, Sirius had been on the run. The home Harry might have had if Wormtail had not escaped had been haunting him all summer. It had been doubly hard to return to the Dursleys knowing that he had so nearly escaped them forever.**

 **Nevertheless, Sirius had been of some help to Harry, even if he couldn't be with him. It was due to Sirius that Harry now had all his school things in his bedroom with him. The Dursleys had never allowed this before; their general wish of keeping Harry as miserable as possible, coupled with their fear of his powers, had led them to lock his school trunk in the cupboard under the stairs every summer prior to this. But their attitude had changed since they had found out that Harry had a dangerous murderer for a godfather - for Harry had conveniently forgotten to tell them that Sirius was innocent.**

"Ha! Like a true marauder's son!" Remus said, patting Harry on the back.

 **Harry had received two letters from Sirius since he had been back at Privet Drive. Both had been delivered, not by owls (as was usual with wizards), but by large, brightly colored tropical birds. Hedwig had not approved of these flashy intruders; she had been most reluctant to allow them to drink from her water tray before flying off again. Harry, on the other hand, had liked them; they put him in mind of palm trees and white sand, and he hoped that, wherever Sirius was (Sirius never said, in case the letters were intercepted), he was enjoying himself. Somehow, Harry found it hard to imaging dementors surviving for long in bright sunlight, perhaps that was why Sirius had gone South. Sirius's letters, which were now hidden beneath the highly useful loose floorboards under Harry's bed, sounded cheerful, and in both of them he had reminded Harry to call on him if ever Harry needed to. Well, he needed to right now, all right. . . .**

 **Harry's lamp seemed to grow dimmer as the cold gray light that precedes sunrise slowly crept into the room. Finally, when the sun had risen, when his bedroom walls had turned gold, and when sounds of movement could be heard from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's room, Harry cleared his desk of crumpled pieces of parchment and reread his finished letter.**

 **Dear Sirius,**

 **Thanks for your last letter. That bird was enormous; it could hardly get through my window. Things are the same as usual here. Dudley's diet isn't going too well. My aunt found him smuggling doughnuts into his room yesterday. They told him they'd have to cut his pocket money if he keeps doing it, so he got really angry and chucked his PlayStation out of the window. That's a sort of computer thing you can play games on. Bit stupid really, now he hasn't even got Mega-Mutilation Part Three to take his mind off things.**

"Huh?" All the purebloods asked.

 **I'm okay, mainly because the Dursleys are terrified you might turn up and turn them all into bats if I ask you to.**

Cue laughter.

 **A weird thing happened this morning, though. My scar hurt again. Last time that happened it was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts. But I don't reckon he can be anywhere near me now, can he? Do you know if curse scars sometimes hurt years afterward?**

 **I'll send this with Hedwig when she gets back; she's off hunting at the moment. Say hello to Buckbeak for me.**

 **Harry**

 **Yes, thought Harry, that looked all right. There was no point putting in the dream; he didn't want it to look as though he was too worried. He folded up the parchment and laid it aside on his desk, ready for when Hedwig returned. Then he got to his feet, stretched, and opened his wardrobe once more. Without glancing at his reflection he started to get dressed before going down to breakfast.**

Cedric put the book down and the hall was silent

 **AN**

 **Okay, anything to improve? Anything I did well? Feedback?**

 **The ships I'm doing on this will be Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione, Luna and Neville, Lavender and Seamus, and Parvati and Dean. For now, that's all. At this point, I'm saying LBSF and PPDT are already established.**

 **-Lily Giselle Rose**


	2. ATTENTION

I'm Lily's sister , AGD. Lily won't be updating any of her stories for a while. Ironically, considering what her favorite TV show is, in December LGR was struck by lightning. Unfortunately, unlike in the Flash, the was no particle accelerator, so, no superpowers. But she was in a coma for a while. The point is, she just woke up yesterday, and since she can't update, I'll be doing it for her until she's up on her feet and caught up on school work.

Until later!

Azalea Gabrielle Daisy

(our parents have a thing about flowers)


	3. Chapter 2

**Hey, so, it's me! Wow, I don't understand how people come up with creative intros.Disclaimer: LGR and I own NOTHING! Neither of us are JK Rowling. If we were, there would be more books.** **ElectricDragonSemblanceHunter: Yes, she's okay. She has some scars and she has developed a but of a stutter, and she's now terrified of lightning, but she's recovering. And I agree. There isn't enough reading the book fanfiction that takes place before the tasks.** **Skye: She skipped the first chapter because Harry couldn't really remember the dream, and LGR is having them read Harry's memories, so they can't read about what he doesn't remember.** **Nicholas: It won't be in the book, but I'm sure I can incorporate it somehow! I like that part of the movie.** **Artsynerd-Withno: Thanks for the advice! Our English teacher is always telling us that people telling you what to fix means that they think the story is worth fixing.** **And now... onto the fic!** _ **LINE BREAK**_

Chapter 3 The Invitation

Sirius, Fudge, and Madam Bones re entered the room, and Sirius headed straight for the Gryffindor table, sitting in between Harry and Remus, grinning.

"Sirius Black has be interrogated under veritiserum!" Madam Bones announced as she Sat back down at the staff table. "Cleared of all charges!"

Once the cheering died off, McGonagall cleared her throat.

"Who wants to read next?"

"I vill." Krum offers. He picks up the book and begins.

 **By the time Harry arrived in the kitchen, the three Dursleys were already seated around the table. None of them looked up as he entered or sat down. Uncle Vernon's large red face was hidden behind the morning's Daily Mail, and Aunt Petunia was cutting a grapefruit into quarters, her lips pursed over her horse-like teeth.**

Everyone laughed at Harry's descriptions. Those at the Gryffindor house table could hear the Boy-Who-Lived himself mutter, "It's true," which made them laugh harder

 **Dudley looked furious and sulky, and somehow seemed to be taking up even more space than usual. This was saying something, as he always took up an entire side of the square table by himself. When Aunt Petunia put a quarter of unsweetened grapefruit onto Dudley's plate with a tremulous "There you are, Diddy darling,"**

"Diddy darling?" Fred and George chorused, unrestrained mirth clear in their identical expressions.

 **Dudley glowered at her. His life had taken a most unpleasant turn since he had come home for the summer with his end-of-year report.**

 **Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had managed to find excuses for his bad marks as usual: Aunt Petunia always insisted that Dudley was a very gifted boy whose teachers didn't understand him, while Uncle Vernon maintained that "he didn't want some swotty little nancy boy for a son anyway. "**

Many shook their heads.

"They're not even trying to get him to try harder." McGonagall said, disgusted with the Dursleys' behavior.

 **They also skated over the accusations of bullying in the report - "He's a boisterous little boy, but he wouldn't hurt a fly!" Aunt Petunia had said tearfully.**

Those who had met the Dursleys snorted at that.

 **However, at the bottom of the report there were a few well-chosen comments from the school nurse that not even Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia could explain away. No matter how much Aunt Petunia wailed that Dudley was big-boned,**

"Looks like-"

"We've got-"

"Ourselves a-"

"Madame Maxime!" The twins finished together.

 **and that his poundage was really puppy fat, and that he was a growing boy who needed plenty of food, the fact remained that the school outfitters didn't stock knickerbockers big enough for him anymore.**

Cue snickers from the peanut gallery (Sirius, Fred, George, and Remus).

 **The school nurse had seen what Aunt Petunia's eyes - so sharp when it came to spotting fingerprints on her gleaming walls, and in observing the comings and goings of the neighbors - simply refused to see: that far from needing extra nourishment, Dudley had reached roughly the size and weight of a young killer whale.**

Outright laughter from the peanut gallery.

"Zat is a big chield!" Fleur exclaimed.

 **So - after many tantrums, after arguments that shook Harry's bedroom floor, and many tears from Aunt Petunia - the new regime had begun. The diet sheet that had been sent by the Smeltings school nurse had been taped to the fridge, which had been emptied of all Dudley's favorite things - fizzy drinks and cakes, chocolate bars and burgers and filled instead with fruit and vegetables and the sorts of things that Uncle Vernon called "rabbit food." To make Dudley feel better about it all, Aunt Petunia had insisted that the whole family follow the diet too. She now passed a grapefruit quarter to Harry. He noticed that it was a lot smaller than Dudley's. Aunt Petunia seemed to feet that the best way to keep up Dudley's morale was to make sure that he did, at least, get more to eat than Harry.**

Remus and Sirius growled.

 _She's mistreating our pup!_

 **But Aunt Petunia didn't know what was hidden under the loose floorboard upstairs. She had no idea that Harry was not following the diet at all. The moment he had got wind of the fact that he was expected to survive the summer on carrot sticks, Harry had sent Hedwig to his friends with pleas for help, and they had risen to the occasion magnificently. Hedwig had returned from Hermione's house with a large box stuffed full of sugar-free snacks. (Hermione's parents were dentists.) Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had obliged with a sack full of his own homemade rock cakes. (Harry hadn't touched these; he had had too much experience of Hagrid's cooking. ) Mrs. Weasley, however, had sent the family owl, Errol, with an enormous fruitcake and assorted meat pies. Poor Errol, who was elderly and feeble, had needed a full five days to recover from the journey.**

Poor owl!" Luna said in her dreamy voice.

 **And then on Harry's birthday (which the Dursleys had completely ignored) he had received four superb birthday cakes, one each from Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and Sirius. Harry still had two of them left, and so, looking forward to a real breakfast when he got back upstairs, he ate his grapefruit without complaint.**

"Harrykins!" Fred.

"Don't you know-" George.

"To eat-" Remus.

"Dessert before your veggies!" Sirius.

McGonagall groaned as the two generations of pranksters bonded. They were going to be the death of her.

 **Uncle Vernon laid aside his paper with a deep sniff of disapproval and looked down at his own grapefruit quarter.**

 **"Is this it?" he said grumpily to Aunt Petunia.**

 **Aunt Petunia gave him a severe look, and then nodded pointedly at Dudley, who had already finished his own grapefruit quarter and was eyeing Harry's with a very sour look in his piggy little eyes.**

 **Uncle Vernon gave a great sigh, which ruffled his large, bushy mustache, and picked up his spoon.**

 **The doorbell rang. Uncle Vernon heaved himself out of his chair and set off down the hall. Quick as a flash, while his mother was occupied with the kettle, Dudley stole the rest of Uncle Vernon's grapefruit.**

"Pig." Ginny grumbled.

 **Harry heard talking at the door, and someone laughing, and Uncle Vernon answering curtly. Then the front door closed, and the sound of ripping paper came from the hall.**

 **Aunt Petunia set the teapot down on the table and looked curiously around to see where Uncle Vernon had got to. She didn't have to wait long to find out; after about a minute, he was back. He looked livid.**

 **"You," he barked at Harry. "In the living room. Now. "**

Ron and Hermione looked at Harry, who was glaring at the table.

 **Bewildered, wondering what on earth he was supposed to have done this time, Harry got up and followed Uncle Vernon out of the kitchen and into the next room. Uncle Vernon closed the door sharply behind both of them.**

 **"So," he said, marching over to the fireplace and turning to face Harry as though he were about to pronounce him under arrest. "So. "**

 **Harry would have dearly loved to have said, "So what?"**

"That's exactly what Lily would say!" Remus chuckled, remembering the fiery redhead's witty comebacks.

 **but he didn't feel that Uncle Vernon's temper should be tested this early in the morning, especially when it was already under severe strain from lack of food. He therefore settled for looking politely puzzled.**

Snape snorted. Potter? Polite? When hell freezes over.

 **"This just arrived," said Uncle Vernon. He brandished a piece of purple writing paper at Harry. "A letter. About you. "**

 **Harry's confusion increased. Who would be writing to Uncle Vernon about him? Who did he know who sent letters by the postman?**

The Weasleys all smiled at each other, remembering their father's excitement at actinging like a muggle, and their mother's exasperation at their father's excitement at acting like a muggle.

 **Uncle Vernon glared at Harry,**

"Why is he glaring at you? You didn't do anything!" Ginny yelled, upset.

 **then looked down at the letter and began to read aloud:**

 **Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,**

 **We have never been introduced, but I am sure you have heard a great deal from Harry about my son Ron.**

 **As Harry might have told you, the final of the Quidditch World Cup** **takes place this Monday night, and my husband, Arthur, has just managed to get prime tickets through his connections at the Department of Magical Games and Sports.**

 **I do hope you will allow us to take Harry to the match, as this really is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; Britain hasn't hosted the cup for thirty years, and tickets are extremely hard to come by. We would of course be glad to have Harry stay for the remainder of the summer holidays, and to see him safely onto the train back to school.**

 **It would be best for Harry to send us your answer as quickly as possible in the normal way, because the Muggle postman has never delivered to our house, and I am not sure he even knows where it is.**

 **Hoping to see Harry soon,**

 **Yours sincerely,**

 **Molly Weasley**

Everyone glanced at the Weasleys, who were grinning widely, especially the twins and Ron.

 **P. S. I do hope we've put enough stamps on.**

"Vhy do I get the feeling dat dis is going to be important?" A Durmstrang student asked.

 **Uncle Vernon finished reading, put his hand back into his breast pocket, and drew out something else.**

 **"Look at this," he growled.**

 **He held up the envelope in which Mrs. Weasley's letter had come, and Harry had to fight down a laugh. Every bit of it was covered in stamps except for a square inch on the front, into which Mrs. Weasley had squeezed the Dursleys' address in minute writing.**

For a moment, there was complete silence. Then, all Half bloods, muggle borns, and purebloods that had taken Muggle Studies burst into rambunctious laughter.

 **"She did put enough stamps on, then," said Harry, trying to sound as though Mrs. Weasley's was a mistake anyone could make.**

"Sure it is!" Sirius laughed.

 **His uncle's eyes flashed.**

Ginny's face darkened. She's didn't like the way Harry's family was acting. No one really takes her seriously, being the youngest Weasley, plus she used to have the biggest crush on the Boy-who-Lived. But she honestly didn't understand howpeople didn't notice how unnaturally skinny he was, or how he seemed so surprised whenever anyone was kind to him.

 **"The postman noticed," he said through gritted teeth. "Very interested to know where this letter came from, he was. That's why he rang the doorbell. Seemed to think it was funny. "**

"That's cause it is!" Sirius laughed.

 **Harry didn't say anything. Other people might not understand why Uncle Vernon was making a fuss about too many stamps, but Harry had lived with the Dursleys too long not to know how touchy they were about anything even slightly out of the ordinary. Their worst fear was that someone would find out that they were connected (however distantly) with people like Mrs. Weasley.**

 **Uncle Vernon was still glaring at Harry, who tried to keep his expression neutral. If he didn't do or say anything stupid, he might just be in for the treat of a lifetime. He waited for Uncle Vernon to say something, but he merely continued to glare. Harry decided to break the silence.**

 **"So - can I go then?" he asked.**

 **A slight spasm crossed Uncle Vernon's large purple face. The mustache bristled. Harry thought he knew what was going on behind the mustache: a furious battle as two of Uncle Vernon's most fundamental instincts came into conflict. Allowing Harry to go would make Harry happy, something Uncle Vernon had struggled against for thirteen years.**

Everyone who knew and liked Harry was upset to hear this. The Professors were not happy. This was sounding an awful lot like child abuse. After the last time, they swore to do everything they could to make sure nothing like that happened to their students again. How had they missed this?

 **On the other hand, allowing Harry to disappear to the Weasleys' for the rest of the summer would get rid of him two weeks earlier than anyone could have hoped,**

Moony and Padfoot growled at that.

 **and Uncle Vernon hated having Harry in the house.**

The tension in the hall was so thick, you could cut it with a butter knife.

 **To give himself thinking time, it seemed, he looked down at Mrs. Weasley's letter again.**

 **"Who is this woman?" he said, staring at the signature with distaste.**

 **"You've seen her," said Harry. "She's my friend Ron's mother, she was meeting him off the Hog - off the school train at the end of last term. "**

 **He had almost said "Hogwarts Express," and that was a sure way to get his uncle's temper up. Nobody ever mentioned the name of Harry's school aloud in the Dursley household.**

All Hogwarts students seemed slightly offended. Hey, school pride, people.

 **Uncle Vernon screwed up his enormous face as though trying to remember something very unpleasant.**

 **"Dumpy sort of woman?"**

The Weasleys did not appreciate that comment. Miles away, Vernon Dursley began to fear for his life for no apparent reason.

 **he growled finally. "Load of children with red hair?"**

 **Harry frowned. He thought it was a bit rich of Uncle Vernon to call anyone "dumpy," when his own son, Dudley, had finally achieved what he'd been threatening to do since the age of three, and become wider than he was tall.**

"You cannot be zerious! Arry?" Fleur asked.

 **Uncle Vernon was perusing the letter again.**

 **"Quidditch," he muttered under his breath. "Quidditch - what is this rubbish?"**

Oliver Wood collapsed to the ground, in mental hell.

"Quidditch. Is not. Rubbish!" He gasped.

 **Harry felt a second stab of annoyance.**

 **"It's a sport," he said shortly. "Played on broom-"**

 **"All right, all right!" said Uncle Vernon loudly. Harry saw, with some satisfaction, that his uncle looked vaguely panicky. Apparently his nerves couldn't stand the sound of the word "broomsticks" in his living room. He took refuge in perusing the letter again. Harry saw his lips form the words "send us your answer. . . in the normal way. " He scowled.**

 **"What does she mean, 'the normal way'?" he spat.**

 **"Normal for us," said Harry, and before his uncle could stop him, he added, "you know, owl post. That's what's normal for wizards. "**

"Did his head explode?" Ginny asked with a sadistic smile at Harry.

"I wish." Harry joked back, also smiling.

 **Uncle Vernon looked as outraged as if Harry had just uttered a disgusting swearword. Shaking with anger, he shot a nervous look through the window, as though expecting to see some of the neighbors with their ears pressed against the glass.**

 **"How many times do I have to tell you not to mention that unnaturalness under my roof?" he hissed, his face now a rich plum color. "You stand there, in the clothes Petunia and I have put on your ungrateful back -"**

 **"Only after Dudley finished with them," said Harry coldly, and indeed, he was dressed in a sweatshirt so large for him that he had had to roll back the sleeves five times so as to be able to use his hands, and which fell past the knees of his extremely baggy jeans.**

 **"I will not be spoken to like that!" said Uncle Vernon, trembling with rage.**

 **But Harry wasn't going to stand for this. Gone were the days when he had been forced to take every single one of the Dursleys' stupid rules. He wasn't following Dudley's diet, and he wasn't going to let Uncle Vernon stop him from going to the Quidditch World Cup, not if he could help it. Harry took a deep, steadying breath and then said, "Okay, I can't see the World Cup. Can I go now, then? Only I've got a letter to Sirius I want to finish. You know - my godfather. "**

"YEEEEEEEEESSSSSS!" Sirius screamed, thrilled with this turn of events.

 **He had done it, he had said the magic words. Now he watched the purple recede blotchily from Uncle Vernon's face, making it look like badly mixed black currant ice cream.**

 **"You're - you're writing to him, are you?" said Uncle Vernon, in a would-be calm voice - but Harry had seen the pupils of his tiny eyes contract with sudden fear.**

 **"Well - yeah," said Harry, casually. "It's been a while since he heard from me, and, you know, if he doesn't he might start thinking something's wrong. "**

 **He stopped there to enjoy the effect of these words. He could almost see the cogs working under Uncle Vernon's thick, dark, neatly parted hair. If he tried to stop Harry writing to Sirius, Sirius would think Harry was being mistreated. If he told Harry he couldn't go to the Quidditch World Cup, Harry would write and tell Sirius, who would know Harry was being mistreated. There was only one thing for Uncle Vernon to do. Harry could see the conclusion forming in his uncle's mind as though the great mustached face were transparent. Harry tried not to smile, to keep his own face as blank as possible. And then -**

 **"Well, all right then. You can go to this ruddy. . . this stupid. . . this World Cup thing. You write and tell these - these Weasleys they're to pick you up, mind. I haven't got time to go dropping you off all over the country. And you can spend the rest of the summer there. And you can tell your - your godfather. . . tell him. . . tell him you're going. "**

 **"Okay then," said Harry brightly.**

 **He turned and walked toward the living room door, fighting the urge to jump into the air and whoop. He was going. . . he was going to the Weasleys', he was going to watch the Quidditch World Cup!**

 **Outside in the hall he nearly ran into Dudley, who had been lurking behind the door, clearly hoping to overhear Harry being told off. He looked shocked to see the broad grin on Harry's face.**

 **"That was an excellent breakfast, wasn't it?" said Harry. "I feel really full, don't you?"**

The hall roared with laughter.

"Why aren't-"

"You this-"

Funny all-"

"The time?"

 **Laughing at the astonished look on Dudley's face, Harry took the stairs three at a time, and hurled himself back into his bedroom.**

 **The first thing he saw was that Hedwig was back. She was sitting in her cage, staring at Harry with her enormous amber eyes, and clicking her beak in the way that meant she was annoyed about something. Exactly what was annoying her became apparent almost at once.**

 **"OUCH!" said Harry as what appeared to be a small, gray, feathery tennis ball collided with the side of his head. Harry massaged the spot furiously, looking up to see what had hit him, and saw a minute owl, small enough to fit into the palm of his hand, whizzing excitedly around the room like a loose firework. Harry then realized that the owl had dropped a letter at his feet. Harry bent down, recognized Ron's handwriting, then tore open the envelope. Inside was a hastily scribbled note.**

 **Harry - DAD GOT THE TICKETS - Ireland versus Bulgaria, Monday night. Mum's writing to the Muggles to ask you to stay. They might already have the letter, I don't know how fast Muggle post is. Thought I'd send this with Pig anyway.**

"Pig?" Cedric asked, confused.

 **Harry stared at the word "Pig," then looked up at the tiny owl now zooming around the light fixture on the ceiling. He had never seen anything that looked less like a pig. Maybe he couldn't read Ron's writing. He went back to the letter:**

 **We're coming for you whether the Muggles like it or not, you can't miss the World Cup, only Mum and Dad reckon it's better if we pretend to ask their permission first.**

Laughter

 **If they say yes, send Pig back with your answer pronto, and we'll come and get you at five o'clock on Sunday. If they say no, send Pig back pronto and we'll come and get you at five o'clock on Sunday anyway.**

They laugh harder.

 **Hermione's arriving this afternoon. Percy's started work - the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Don't mention anything about Abroad while you're here unless you want the pants bored off you.**

At this point, people were rolling on the floor, clutching their stomachs.

 **See you soon -**

 **Ron**

 **"Calm down!" Harry said as the small owl flew low over his head, twittering madly with what Harry could only assume was pride at having delivered the letter to the right person. "Come here, I need you to take my answer back!"**

 **The owl fluttered down on top of Hedwig's cage. Hedwig looked coldly up at it, as though daring it to try and come any closer.**

 **Harry seized his eagle-feather quill once more, grabbed a fresh piece of parchment, and wrote:**

 **Ron, it's all okay, the Muggles say I can come. See you five o'clock tomorrow. Can't wait.**

 **Harry**

 **He folded this note up very small, and with immense difficulty, tied it to the tiny owl's leg as it hopped on the spot with excitement. The moment the note was secure, the owl was off again; it zoomed out of the window and out of sight.**

 **Harry turned to Hedwig.**

 **"Feeling up to a long journey?" he asked her.**

 **Hedwig hooted in a dignified sort of a way.**

 **"Can you take this to Sirius for me?" he said, picking up his letter. "Hang on. . . I just want to finish it. "**

 **He unfolded the parchment and hastily added a postscript.**

 **If you want to contact me, I'll be at my friend Ron Weasley's for the rest of the summer. His dad's got us tickets for the Quidditch World Cup!**

 **The letter finished, he tied it to Hedwig's leg; she kept unusually still, as though determined to show him how a real post owl should behave.**

 **"I'll be at Ron's when you get back, all right?" Harry told her.**

 **She nipped his finger affectionately, then, with a soft swooshing noise, spread her enormous wings and soared out of the open window.**

 **Harry watched her out of sight, then crawled under his bed, wrenched up the loose floorboard, and pulled out a large chunk of birthday cake. He sat there on the floor eating it, savoring the happiness that was flooding through him. He had cake, and Dudley had nothing but grapefruit; it was a bright summer's day, he would be leaving Privet Drive tomorrow, his scar felt perfectly normal again, and he was going to watch the Quidditch World Cup. It was hard, just now, to feel worried about anything - even Lord Voldemort.**

Viktor put the book down.

 **AN**

 **So, how's this?**

 **I have to ask something, a question for anyone reading this who is British. Here it is...**

 **Why do you have two taps on your sinks? One is boiling, the other _freezing._ It doesn't sound appealing. So, why?**

 **That's all for now. Bye!**

 **-Azalea Gabrielle Daisy**


	4. Author's Note

I'm so sorry to do this, but I can't keep up with this story. LGR is having major health concerns, her heart is in danger of failing, I've been diagnosed with Dyslexia, I broke my laptop and cut my leg open on a mirror, I'm getting chronic migranes, I have a major schoolwork overload, had to get a job to help my parents pay the bills, and I'm pregnant. I'm writing thothison my phonebecause b after getting a midrange so bad I vomited, I decided to take one thing of my to do list. I know this is disappointing, and I hate it when this happens to me, but this is only temporary. I'll other chapters out if/when I have time/am not in extreme pain.

Sorry about any typs, it's midnight, I have autocorrect on (see: dyslexia) and still have a migrant.

Again, so sorrysorry,

Azalea Gabrielle Rose


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